


mimicry

by spacebubble



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: (but tbh more emotional dom/sub than anything), Accidental Voyeurism, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Angst, Bittersweet, First Kiss, Internalized Homophobia, Introspection, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sexual Experimentation, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-08-27 14:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16703977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebubble/pseuds/spacebubble
Summary: Pre-canon. Odo sees Quark in a different light after intruding upon Quark's privacy. Things get complicated and confusing after that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat emotionally bleaker than most quodo fics I write, but the idea wouldn't leave my brain, or rather, multiple ideas - Quark wrestling with his conception of what a 'real' Ferengi businessman should be like, Odo just trying to cope with general existence, both of them outsiders in an uneasy environment, attracted to each other in ways they can't reconcile, even if they try. 
> 
> What if they got together without staying together before the show began?

Odo patrols the habitat ring corridors in various guises. Now he is a Tarkaelan hawk, soaring silently along the ceiling, the feathers on his back barely skimming the lights. Now he is a Rafalian mouse, swift and small, flitting underfoot as easy as you please. Now he is a Bajoran in a Cardassian uniform, stone-faced as he glances at everyone he passes by, more to be seen than to see.

He slows his usual measured pace as he walks past Quark's quarters, head tilted towards the closed door.

He thinks he hears a shriek.

Frowning, Odo stops walking.

He shifts into a Gallamite air spider, translucent and minuscle, and slips underneath the door.

(It's not breaking and entering - the circumstances require it. A civilian may be in danger. The fact that the civilian is Quark is irrelevant. It's his duty as a security officer to investigate any possible breach of safety.)

Odo considers shifting back into his customary humanoid form, prepared to apprehend whoever might have caused Quark to emit such a sound, when a subsequent noise gives him pause.

It's Quark's voice, that much he knows for certain. But it's less of a shriek than -

A moan.

He hesitates.

He might have made a mistake.

Odo looks around with his multiple spider eyes, at the array of shiny baubles and peculiar decorative objects surrounding him. Had he been here in other, more easily justified circumstances, he might have taken his time to observe and identify each item for its legitimacy (Quark had made a reputation for himself as a smuggler, no matter how vehemently he denied ever bringing in contraband).

He hears another cry, and it sounds like a stifled sob.

Odo bristles. Perhaps he hadn't made a mistake after all, and Quark's being tortured in the other room.

He scurries forward, still in his spider form - better to surprise an assailant - and rounds the corner.

There's a bed in the room, and it's occupied. The sounds are louder. Odo can hear another voice besides Quark's.

Still suspicious, Odo skitters up the side of a nearby table with his featherlight spider legs, until he's on the table's surface and can see exactly what's happening.

Quark on the bed, underneath another man, a tall and slender alien that Odo doesn't recognize. Their limbs are intertwined and bare. Quark's fingers dig into the other man's shoulderblades, aquamarine nails glistening in the ambient light falling through the bedroom doorway. The other man's hair, long and pale, falls over his face as he moves on top of Quark. His breaths are low and ragged as he holds Quark by the waist and provokes further cries. He dips down to mouth at Quark's neck, nose grazing Quark's ear with a purposeful series of strokes.

Odo's never seen anyone having sex before.

He stares with his many eyes, frozen to the spot. He knows what sex is, in theory. He's certainly read about it plenty of times, and generally understands that it's rarely ever simply the mere act of intercourse. It's rarely ever simple at all.

From what he can tell, it doesn't _look_ like Quark is in pain, despite the loudness and urgency of his cries. It looks like Quark is welcoming each and every movement from the man above him, urging them on, trailing a foot up the back of the other man's calf, leg trembling as a large hand slides around to grab his backside and lift him even closer. It looks like Quark is submitting to his sexual partner's touch with no resistance whatsoever, moving in a fluid and hypnotic physical harmony. It's like watching a completely different person than the disagreeable scoundrel Odo's so used to encountering during the day.

A sudden, forceful thrust of the other man's hips makes Quark shriek again, and Odo realizes, to his deep embarrassment, that the sound he heard earlier was a cry of pleasure.

He shouldn't be here.

He shouldn't have come here at all, should have left well enough alone. He is intruding upon Quark's privacy, and he should stop immediately.

With his spider's legs and spider's speed, Odo departs from Quark's bedroom.

He rushes past the doorway, past the living room and the main entrance, and he doesn't slow down until he's on the other side of the habitat ring, then inside an empty turbolift, which doesn't operate until he remembers he has to shift back into a humanoid form and voice a command.

 

* * *

 

Odo returns to his security office feeling disturbed.

He locks the doors and turns them opaque, even though he never has any visitors at this time of the night.

It's almost time for his regeneration cycle to begin, but that's not why he desires privacy at the moment.

He needs some time to be alone with his thoughts, which are all in a chaotic tangle, as they usually are after he's left Quark's company. But this time it's worse. This time, it's because he was in Quark's company without Quark's permission, in a way he can no longer justify. This time, he wasn't an innocuous glass at the end of Quark's bar counter, listening in on conversations anyone could have overheard if they were also in the bar. This time, he wasn't a fly on the wall of Cargo Bay Three, observing an illicit hand-off of an extra container smuggled in with the supposedly legitimate shipments.

No, this time, Odo had violated Quark's privacy without excuse.

He's thrown culprits into holdings cells for less.

Odo paces back and forth inside his office, a habit he's picked up from his time at the Bajoran Institute of Science. The act of moving in such a repetitive pattern is oddly soothing, a form of simple order in contrast to the wildly complicated mess of thoughts preoccupying his mind.

Should he write a report on himself? No, that would be inefficient - why bother when he already knows what he's done?

Besides, the only oversight he has as chief of security is Gul Dukat, who only ever concerns himself with reports relating to his personal security or whatever might impact his annual communiques to Cardassian High Command.

Furthermore, he doesn't want Dukat to know. Informing the Gul would further violate Quark's privacy, perpetuate it in another's mind.

No, he ought to keep it as private as possible, even though it feels wrong to do so.

When his cycle signals its beginning, makes him begin to lose his form, Odo welcomes the impending loss of consciousness with relief.

 

* * *

 

He emerges from his regeneration cycle the next day with the guilt still there, hanging over him like stormclouds about to burst.

Should he confess? Would that even help?

Odo paces his office again, doors opaque and locked, in a cage of his own making.

Confessing to Quark would only make matters worse. It would only make Quark needle and pry into his past behavior, barrage him with interrogations he's not prepared to withstand. Much as Odo hates to admit it, Quark's mind is sharp and naturally curious. Had Quark been more inclined towards legitimate pursuits, he might have made a more than competent detective.

Not a security officer, of course. Not with that small and fragile body, so easily intimidated and overpowered by larger men, men with long pale hair and slender strong limbs, pinning Quark down to the bed...

A sudden bitterness flashes through Odo, overwhelming him with its intensity.

The Quark he saw last night was obedient and agreeable, but the Quark he usually sees is the complete opposite - the most disagreeable person Odo's ever met, the least obedient denizen of the entire station, possibly even the entire quadrant.

He's seen Quark meekly acquiesce to brute strength before, heard Quark smooth-talk his way out of potential violence (or babble in a panic, a display of cowardice so obviously blatant that it diffused situations almost as easily). But Odo's never seen Quark yield so naturally, so instinctively, to anyone else like he did last night.

Perhaps that disturbed him the most - the sincerity of Quark's submission.

 

* * *

 

Odo goes about his day as usual, though he debates with himself over whether he should stop by Quark's.

He's made a routine out of visiting the bar every day. Not at the same time each day - that would be too predictable, allowing Quark a chance to avoid him. But Quark would expect him to visit. It would be more suspicious if he didn't visit.

But he can put it off. He can pretend other things had taken precedence, vital security issues that required his attention (which is usually true - Quark's various petty schemes are rarely ever _so_ heinous that they demand his intervention right away).

Odo's mind drifts towards what Quark would do if he didn't visit. Sometimes Quark actually misses his company. Odo can't help feeling smug remembering all the times Quark's barged into his office unannounced, using some minor complaint as an excuse to talk with him, as if Odo couldn't see through the excuses right away.

In fact, perhaps he ought to stop by the bar, just for a brief while, to spare Quark the effort of trudging over to his office with his comically small legs, the ones he saw wrap around the other man's long limbs last night...

Odo growls at himself. He can't believe he's still obsessing over something so trivial when other, far more important security issues demand his attention.

He decides not to visit. Not until he's accomplished more _actual_ work first.

 

* * *

 

Several closed cases later - Odo's efficiency is unparalleled amongst Terok Nor's past chiefs of security - Odo allows himself some time for contemplation.

He sits at his console and stares out of his office doors at the rest of the Promenade. If Quark plans on visiting him, he wants to make sure he sees the approach.

It's hard to get his thoughts into order. The urge to get up and pace back and forth prickles at the back of his mind, but he suppresses it. If he's pacing, Quark might catch him off-guard.

Odo frowns. Even before the incident (as he's begun to refer to it), Quark's had a habit of throwing him off-balance. Talking with Quark was a constant exercise in sifting through multiple layers of lies and fabrications, of dancing around something unspoken and trying to decipher the hidden meanings underneath the artifice. The desire to strip away and expose the naked truth.

Odo's frown deepens. He doesn't usually think of Quark in such terms. The incident's contaminating his mind.

Perhaps contemplation wasn't such a good idea after all.

 

* * *

 

He walks into the bar with a practiced, forced calm.

One foot in front of the other, methodical and precise. Hands at his sides, then behind his back - he never knows what to do with his hands. Heading directly towards the counter, where Quark's chatting away with a patron -

The same man from last night.

Odo almost didn't recognize him, clothed. The man isn't in uniform - not a military officer as far as Odo can tell. No, he's a merchant of some sort, at the very least someone of wealth, based on the way Quark's reacting to him - Odo's learned to recognize how Quark's demeanor changes depending on the type of person he's talking to, and right now Quark's talking to someone with a sizeable amount of latinum. A tall someone, with his long pale hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck, leaving his pointed ears exposed. Longer than a Vulcan's, curved closer to the skull. The man's skin leans towards greenish-blue, like a Bolian seen through green bottle glass. His nose is aquiline, exaggeratedly so, like a bird's beak, curving outwards and down.

He doesn't resemble anyone in the Cardassian criminal database, which Odo has long ago committed to memory, but he could very well be a criminal nonetheless - just one who hasn't been caught yet.

Odo could be the one to catch him.

He continues walking at his usual pace, as if he didn't feel a sudden urge to investigate this clearly suspicious individual speaking with Quark, leaning on the counter like a casual rogue.

But before he's even done approaching, Quark leans in to whisper in the man's ear, and the man gets up and leaves.

Odo turns to watch him go, but the man doesn't walk in his direction, and before he knows it, he's already sitting down at the counter, in the seat the man's just vacated.

"What do you want, Odo?" Quark leans on the counter, looking irritable and sounding impatient - just like his old self. It's almost a relief.

"Who was that?" Odo asks, nodding towards the departing man as he turns to look back at Quark.

"Just a friend," Quark replies casually, but his lobes darken with a slight flush. "Why do you care?"

"It's my job to remain apprised of any visitors to the station."

"Then why are you asking me?" Quark tilts his head. "Shouldn't you already know?"

"I haven't had the chance to review the latest visitor manifests," Odo replies, which is partially true, though he's kicking himself mentally for not having checked already. "Besides, it's entirely possible any 'friend' of yours is here unofficially."

Quark grins. "So you don't even know if he's here 'officially' or not."

"You could tell me yourself."

"Or I could go serve a paying customer, and make better use of my time."

Quark moves to walk away, but Odo reaches out and grabs his hand. "Wait."

"What are you doing?" Quark asks, eyes widening, attempting to yank his hand away. When he can't extricate himself, he hisses in a whisper, "Odo, let go!"

"I'm not done talking with you." It bothers him that Quark insists on being evasive.

"Let _go_ of me, Odo, this isn't funny, someone's going to see!"

The rising panic in Quark's voice confuses him. "See what?"

Quark nods towards their clasped hands with a sharp jerk of the head. "That. Let _go._ "

"No." Odo pulls on their intertwined hands, until Quark's leaning over the counter, mere centimeters away. "Tell me about your friend."

Quark's entire face is flushed by now, from cheek to lobe. Tears are starting to form in the corners of his dark-rimmed eyes as he attempts to yank his hand out of Odo's grasp. "Odo, stop it."

"Tell me more about your friend, first."

"If I do, will you let go of me?"

Odo nods, and Quark, resigned, begins to divulge.

There's something not quite right about what he's doing, but he can't seem to stop himself from doing it. For once, Quark is yielding to him. All it took was a small show of force, of physical dominance.

He wonders if other forms of dominance might help.

"Odo?" Quark tugs on his hand again, sounding drained and desperate. "I've told you everything you wanted to know. Old friend, possible business opportunities, didn't stay in any of the visitor's quarters because he was staying at mine. Did you want to know his family history, too? Because I can get that for you, if you maybe _let go of my hand_."

Just as he's about to reply, one of the Cardassian officers sits down next to him at the counter.

"Constable," says the officer genially, and Odo recognizes him immediately.

"Glinn Boheeka," Odo replies.

Boheeka glances back and forth between him and Quark. "Is, uh, everything all right?"

Had he not been a Changeling, Odo might have loosened his grip in surprise upon seeing the glinn. But his surprise has no effect on his physical abilities, and he's still holding onto Quark's hand just as firmly as he was when Boheeka sat down.

"Everything's fine," Odo tells him.

"Everything's _not_ fine," Quark snaps. "Boheeka, can you order Odo to let go of me?"

"Um, don't think I can," Boheeka replies apologetically. "Odo reports directly to Gul Dukat, and I report to a senior glinn who _then_ reports to the Gul, so..."

"So, great," Quark sighs, seemingly accepting Boheeka's reply in stride, and something about the way Quark reacts to Boheeka's presence raises Odo's suspicion and ire. They speak plainly, without artifice, and another flash of bitterness lights up Odo's mind.

Did Quark and the glinn also have sex? Was Quark only ever obedient to his sexual partners?

"Constable," Boheeka mildly inquires, "if I may ask, why _are_ you holding Quark's hand?" And before Odo can reply, Boheeka continues, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Don't," Quark mutters, shooting Boheeka a warning glance, but it's too late.

"Interrupting what?" Odo asks, perplexed.

"Uh, nothing." Boheeka glances back and forth between them, apology written all over his face as he lingers on Quark's upset glare. "Forget it. I just remembered, I need to go meet, uh, somebody, somewhere else... Good night," he says, voice trailing as he makes a hasty departure.

Quark groans to himself, but he sounds strangely affectionate when he comments, "That dumb idiot."

"Somewhat redundant label," Odo points out mildly. "What was he interrupting?"

Suddenly Quark leans in close to hiss in his ear, " _Us_ , you freak. He thought we were _together_."

At that, Odo pulls back to stare at him. "Sexually?"

Quark looks like he wants to smack him, but all he does is nod, slowly. " _Now_ will you let go of me?"

Odo does.

As Quark stalks away from him, Odo watches him go.

The mess in his mind grows even more tangled.

Together? Him and Quark?

What would that be like?


	2. Chapter 2

Odo waits at the counter, but Quark doesn't return.

They ought to talk. He has so many questions about the implications of _being together,_ and besides, he's starting to feel uneasy about physically restraining Quark earlier, even though he was careful not to hurt him.

(Odo thinks of observing animals in the woods around the Bajoran Institute of Science, of watching a fox delicately close its fangs around an egg, to carry it off unbroken.)

He sits there, awkwardly, unsure how long he ought to wait, if he should even wait at all to speak with Quark, if he should even bother, or if it might be better to come back tomorrow.

A small part of him is aware he could simply march over and interrupt Quark's business, take hold of him and drag him away to somewhere else to speak.

(Somewhere private? Somewhere away from all prying eyes - except his own?)

Minutes pass, almost verging upon half an hour, and still Quark doesn't return.

He sees him when he looks for him - now serving a drink to a customer, now flattering a player at the dabo wheel, hands always in motion, always assured of what to do with his hands. There Quark lets his fingers graze those of the patron accepting her beverage, there Quark is giving an encouraging pat on the back to the player hunched over the dabo wheel.

Quark never looks once in Odo's direction. It's as if he's invisible, non-existent. Or a merely part of the scenery, of no more significance than the empty barstools on either side of him, of no note to Quark unless occupied by someone with something he wants.

And what does he have that Quark might want?

But before he can ruminate on the matter further, his internal clock notes that it has been precisely half an hour since he first sat down at the counter, which is already ten minutes longer than the amount of time he's permitted himself for this particular visit.

He spins himself around just enough to get out of the barstool, an unnecessary imitation of any other humanoid patron, but a purposeful one - he wants Quark to hear his departure, to notice his absence.

Odo considers walking over to Quark on his way out, but Quark's in the middle of talking with one of his waiters. As much as Odo doesn't mind interrupting Quark, he does try to extend some basic courtesy to Quark's staff, whose jobs are difficult enough without the chief of security interrupting their instructions.

He waits a beat to see if Quark might look his way, but Quark doesn't look up, or give any indication he knows Odo is leaving.

Telling himself he has better things to do, Odo walks out of the bar.

 

* * *

 

He's barely sat down at his desk again before Quark's barging into his office, fuming.

"What's the big idea, huh?"

Odo allows himself a fraction of a second to feel smug - Quark _did_ notice him leaving - before he replies, "What big idea?"

"You know what I'm talking about." Quark gestures with his hand. "Do you want everyone to think I'm some sort of -"

And then he says something that isn't translating into Kardasi nor Bajoran, some sort of Ferengi term Odo's unfamiliar with, but from the tone of Quark's voice and the bitterness in his expression, Odo knows it can't be anything good.

"- who lets just anyone grab his hand like, like some kept _fe-male_?"

Odo frowns. He's vaguely familiar with the bizarre gender divisions in Ferengi culture, but can't imagine how that relates. "Why would anyone assume that?"

Quark gets that look again, like he would like nothing better than to smack the questions out of Odo's face. "You haven't heard what people say about you."

"I've heard plenty," Odo says in a level tone, thinking about all the whispers he's overheard, all the snide comments and remarks said when others thought he wasn't around, not knowing he was a glass, or an animal underfoot, or a decorative knife on the mantelpiece, sharper than the rest. "More than you can ever imagine."

"I don't think so." Quark stalks forward, then leans on his desk, getting into Odo's face. "You haven't heard the things I've heard in my bar, from drunk patrons needing to get their true thoughts off their chest."

"Such as?"

Quark grins humorlessly. "That you're a sexless freak who can't even speak to a woman, so you resort to harassing _me_ all day. That you don't know what a real man looks like, so you can't even imitate one completely. That you obey the Gul because you can't think of anything better to do with your powers besides carry out his orders like a brainless machine. But even machines can think for themselves, can't they?"

Odo supposes Quark expects him to boil over in anger, to leap from his chair in a dramatic display of being insulted.

But he's heard worse.

He shrugs.

"So?" he says, and Quark blinks, stunned.

"Aren't you going to get mad?"

"Why should I?"

"Don't you care?"

And Quark whirls around, his coattails swishing dramatically as he starts to pace the security office, but instead of walking back and forth in an orderly pattern, his steps trace a spontaneous set of spirals all over the floor.

"Care about _what_ , Quark?"

"Your reputation!" Quark spins around to glare at him, exasperated, hands thrown up into the air. "Your good name!"

"My name, quite literally, means nothing," Odo notes matter-of-factly, and Quark's hands fall to his sides.

"Don't even know why I bother," Quark sighs, as if Odo couldn't hear him, then raises his voice again. "So, fine, you don't mind that everyone thinks you're trying to fuck me, or -"

" _What_?"

If Odo could blush, he would. If Odo could erase such gossip from everyone's mind, he would, in a heartbeat, faster than a heartbeat, at warp speed.

Because it's a lie, he hasn't been, hasn't ever even thought about the possibility, but now his mind flares with image upon image of himself and Quark, directly confronting the implications he had started to contemplate earlier. Himself intertwined with Quark upon a bed, lifting Quark's body up to meet his, provoking those cries of pleasure, those assured fingers clutching at his back.

Quark suddenly folds his arms. "Don't play dumb, Odo. You flirt worse than Boheeka after a few kanars. All the Cardassians on the station just think you're trying to get in my very expensive pants, but they don't know that I'm just humoring you. I know Bajorans don't flirt like Cardassians do."

Very dimly, like his thoughts are struggling to swim against a strong current, Odo recalls the Cardassian associations between argument and flirtation, coded interest and surface irritation.

(He also remembers how Dr. Mora had to constantly demur with his colleagues at the Bajoran Institute of Science, admirable women who invariably hailed from a fine family, wrote highly regarded papers on groundbreaking research, and whose appearances were unquestionably striking, but he honestly disagreed with them about such and such method and _didn't_ want to get dinner and a drink, sorry, thank you.)

"I hadn't realized," Odo says quietly, and Quark makes an incredulous noise, then walks over to the chair in front of Odo and collapses into it with a huff, as if the act of standing was suddenly far too laborious.

"Of course you hadn't." Quark shakes his head as he regards Odo from the opposite side of the desk. "You're oblivious. Maybe the gossip's true after all. You don't know how to talk to women, and you don't even know how to talk to me."

Odo considers correcting him, but it's not entirely false. He doesn't know how to talk to Quark after this.

So he says, "Maybe."

Quark knits his browridges in surprise - Odo doesn't usually agree with him. "So... you really didn't mean to flirt with me."

"No."

Quark nods in acceptance, like he's known all along, even though he also looks hurt for some reason. "Figured."

"You're disappointed."

"I'm not," Quark retorts, far too quickly, far too hurt-sounding. He looks away from Odo with a disgusted sound. Odo wonders what Quark finds disgusting - that he wanted Odo to flirt with him? Or that he even considered the possibility in the first place?

"Quark?"

"Yeah?" Quark replies, still not looking at him.

"What you said earlier, about -" He repeats the unfamiliar Ferengi word in a neutral, emotionless tone, but Quark winces nevertheless. "Why is that such an insult?"

Quark opens his mouth as if to reply, then closes it with a tight press of the lips.

At Quark's hesitation, Odo briefly contemplates grabbing his hand again and refusing to let go, leaving his doors transparent so everyone could see. He doesn't know _what_ is so terrible about being seen holding Quark's hand, but if that's what it takes -

"It's a slur." Quark glances back at him with an uncomfortable expression. "I shouldn't have said it."

"But _why_ -"

"Odo, listen." Quark squirms in the chair like his entire body's been stained by something he can't wash off. "Relationships between men don't exist on Ferenginar."

Maybe it's another translation error. Odo frowns. "Is that the correct term? Because you've told me yourself that one of your people's Rules is, 'always have -'"

"That's not a relationship," Quark corrects immediately. "That's just the cost of doing business."

"I've never heard of any other culture doing business like that."

"Yeah, that's because most cultures are several thousand years behind us in terms of financial evolution."

"I don't think that's entirely the reason -"

"Do you want me to keep explaining or not?" Quark squirms again, then folds his arms in a way that looks like he's hugging himself. "Because we don't usually discuss this with offworlders."

Odo grunts, but doesn't say anything, as a signal that Quark should continue.

"Ferengi men do have sex with each other, yes. Business partners, especially. But it's all temporary. Nothing lasts beyond whatever deal the sex helps solidify. You make a transaction, you seal the deal with some oo-mox or more, and that's it."

"That's it?" Odo waits for Quark to elaborate, but Quark falls silent again, so Odo continues speaking. "All right, I understand that homosexual relationships are typically short-lived amongst Ferengi -"

"They're not relationships."

"Encounters, then." Odo waits for another correction, receives none. "But what does that have to do with me holding your hand?"

"Ferengi men don't hold hands with each other." Quark curls in on himself, folded hands tucked away, and it occurs to Odo that such a gesture keeps his hands away from Odo's potential grasp. "That's something you do to a fe-male, to ensure her hand doesn't touch anyone else's ears but yours. It's shameful."

Odo thinks he's beginning to understand, even though it doesn't make sense. "It's something that you do to a -"

"Don't say it," Quark interrupts. "Just forget I ever said it, okay?"

Odo nods. He supposes slurs have a particularly harsh effect for a species that emphasizes the sense of hearing.

They sit staring at each other in silence for a moment, Odo unblinking and thoughtful, Quark uncomfortably curled up on the seat across from him.

"So," Quark says, in a small voice, "do you get it, now? Did I clear things up?"

"Not entirely," Odo replies, because he's even more confused than he was before, but a few things are clearer, of more significance than he previously thought. Gender-related shame, business and pride, and differences in perspective. Sexuality being used as a weapon against oneself. Pieces of something, but not enough to form a complete picture.

Quark abruptly gets up. "Well, sorry I can't be of any more assistance, Constable, but it's late and I got Rom to cover my shift, so I think I'll just go back to my quarters -"

"Quark, wait."

And Quark tenses, looking apprehensive, like he's anticipating Odo might reach out and grab him, force him to stay in place.

He thinks about Quark's reactions - the hurt look, the discomfort, the regret over saying that slur. He thinks back to the tears in Quark's eyes when he refused to let go of Quark's hand, and how strangely appealing they were, that sincere response, the honesty of it.

Sex, money, power, all intertwined, like the limbs in Quark's bed, like the tangles of his thoughts.

"Did..." Odo stands up, slowly, and keeps his hands on the desk. Quark's eyes follow his hands, then dart back up. "Did you mind me holding your hand? You, personally."

Quark knits his browridges. "What do you mean?"

" _You_ , Quark." Odo's thoughts struggle. The current's strong. The other man looked strong when he lifted Quark's body closer. Odo thinks he's stronger. "If you weren't scared of anyone seeing. If no one else was around. We're nowhere near Ferenginar. Would you mind?"

Quark blinks, then stares.

He looks like he's seeing Odo in a different light, and it's not clear to Odo if he likes what he sees.

"I have to go," Quark says, and he turns around to leave, but Odo's faster, and he moves to stand between Quark and the doorway. "Odo?"

"I just want to know."

Quark looks solemn, the most serious Odo's ever seen him. "If I'd mind?"

"Yes."

"If it's you."

"Yes."

Silence falls between them as Quark decides how to answer. It's not an immediate no. Odo feels a rush of even more confusing emotions, nothing so clear as smugness nor pride, though there are pieces of both.

"And if it's not just holding your hand," Odo elaborates, and Quark glances back up at him in surprise. "If the thought of me, and you, together..."

"What would you get out of it?" Quark asks, eyes scanning Odo's, looking curious and apprehensive all at once.

"More knowledge," Odo replies, which is true - he's never had sex before, and has no idea if he's even capable of a sexual relationship, or encounter of any duration.

His reply only seems to confuse Quark. "Knowledge of what?"

Odo grunts in a vague tone. "Physical knowledge, I suppose."

"Oh. _Oh_." Quark's voice lowers at the second syllable. He makes a half-hearted attempt at a leer, but his curiosity turns it into more of a gaze. "So I'd... be teaching you? In this weird thought exercise of yours," he adds hurriedly.

"I suppose."

"Huh." Quark tilts his head. "Guess some of the rumors are true."

"The ones about sexlessness and ignorance?" Odo tilts his head as well, echoing Quark's expression, feeling oddly amused by it. "Perhaps." Then, lowering his voice, like Quark's, he adds, "But perhaps not for long. If we were together."

Quark's entire face seems to darken with a slight blush. He seems temporarily at a loss for words. The sight fills Odo with that confusing rush of feelings again, not quite smugness nor pride, though perhaps a stronger amount of both.

"In this thought exercise of mine," Odo reminds him.

Quark laughs in what sounds like a nervous relief. "Right. Just a thought exercise. Uh. Well."

Odo leans closer. "Well?"

The increased proximity seems to darken Quark's face even further. Odo has just enough time to relish the sight of it before Quark suddenly ducks away from view and walks out the doors.

Too surprised to follow him, Odo simply watches Quark hurry out onto the Promenade, into the crowds, until he's disappeared from view.


	3. Chapter 3

Odo stares out his office doors and contemplates his next course of action.

It's clear that Quark isn't coming back. Odo waits and watches, but there's no returning figure in the distance, no re-emerging flash of ostentatious metal ornamentation on colorful clothing coming back into view. Only the usual crowds, too many faces all blurring together into an anonymous mass.

An uncomfortable, cut-off feeling lingers in Odo's mind. Quark evaded answering his questions yet again, leaving Odo with the awareness of something missing.

He considers following Quark back to his quarters. Walking down the Promenade, purposeful and intimidating, the Constable making his rounds. Gradually leaving the crowds, until there's fewer people around, perhaps no one else at all. Then, finally, shifting into something else for the rest of the way, so no one would realize he was heading to Quark's.

Odo certainly doesn't want to spark further rumors or gossip. At the very least, he doesn't want people to assume he has an interest in Quark that he doesn't actually have. Not before he's even had a chance to test whether he wants to have it in the first place.

(Even though Odo has no idea how he might begin to test that want.)

It's not that he even _wants_ to hold Quark's hand, or to press his body against Quark's, or to make Quark succumb to his touch. He doesn't desire any of those things. There's no physical yearning like the kind he's read about, the kind that compels a person to seek satisfaction for primal urges. He still doesn't know if his body is even capable of feeling such compulsions.

But when he thinks about the easy intimacy that Quark shares with Boheeka, or the man from the incident, or any of the patrons that visit the bar, something twists inside Odo. It's a yearning of a different kind. He doesn't want to sit at that empty counter by himself anymore, watching Quark behave so differently with everyone who isn't him.

The not-wanting shifts into another want of its own, a longing for something different. A yearning for something other than what they currently have, whatever it is they have, which sometimes feels like nothing at all.

As he ruminates, Odo begins to notice various passersby glancing over at him through the doors - once, then another glance shortly after - before they hurriedly continue on their way.

With a start, he realizes he must look stranger than usual, standing behind his office doors and staring out at nothing in particular. He's not used to caring about how others might perceive him, but Quark's words still rattle around his thoughts, and now he feels more self-conscious than ever. He could very well be provoking further rumors just by standing still, and he hasn't even begun to address the rumors that already exist.

Odo switches off the door's transparency with an irritated grunt. The clear glass instantaneously transforms into solid grey, blocking Odo from view and blocking Odo's view of the Promenade. But staring at the now-opaque doors only makes him feel foolish, so he returns to his desk and sits in the giant swivel chair commissioned by his predecessor. Though Odo never _needs_ to sit, it's turned into a habit, and the swivel of the chair is oddly soothing.

He slowly swivels the chair back and forth, and thinks.

Before he gets to Quark's door, he would shift back into his humanoid form and ring the chime. He wouldn't repeat his past mistakes. He would stop at the door and wait for Quark to let him in.

(And if Quark refuses?)

Odo leans back in the chair and stares at the ceiling.

If Quark didn't want to let him in, he would accept that. Of course he would. Unlike most humanoids, Odo is a very accepting individual. He wouldn't think about the man from the incident, or how Quark welcomed him into his quarters and his bed. How the man might be there now, or perhaps Boheeka might be there in his place, or perhaps someone else entirely.

No, Odo wouldn't fixate on the fact that others must have come before him, or how different he must be from all those others, and he certainly wouldn't focus on how those differences might make him an object of refusal.

He is, after all, the Chief of Security on Terok Nor. Quark is a known criminal. It would be perfectly normal for Quark to refuse to let him into his quarters. There might be evidence of illegitimate activities. (He didn't get a good look last night, after all.) There might be a guest over, one he doesn't want Odo to see. There could be any number of reasons for refusal.

(And what if Quark doesn't refuse?)

Odo folds his arms.

What little he knows about Ferengi sexual behavior is ear-focused, which immediately makes him self-conscious once more. His own ears, as Quark has often pointed out, are lacking in detail, size, and shape. Animal ears are no problem for him, but the minute he attempts to shape them in a more humanoid fashion, all his shapeshifting mastery seems to dissolve into inadequacy.

He makes another attempt as he sits in his office, concentrating hard on the thought of a typical Bajoran ear structure, the auricle leading to the helix, then the groove between the helix and the antihelix, and so on and so forth, tracing each curve in his mind, willing himself to reproduce the results, into something Quark might give another glance, not because it's freakish, but because he finds it appealing...

Nothing happens.

Odo concentrates even harder. The lateral surface, the channels for the pagh, Quark's lacquered fingers reaching up in curiosity.

He reaches up with his own hand, but he already knows nothing's changed, not even minutely. His ears remain as smooth and featureless as ever. It's as if there's a block in his thought matrices, interfering with his full potential. Humanoid ears shouldn't be such a challenge - they're merely another form of animal - and yet, the ears remain a struggle.

Odo grunts in irritation again. The frustrated, unfinished feeling returns, so he stops staring at the ceiling and refocuses on his security console, where he pulls up the latest case files.

He's wasted enough time on Quark for the evening. He has more important things to do.

 

* * *

 

Other matters demand Odo's attention the next day. There's another attempt on the Gul's life, numerous leads to follow, and far too many witnesses volunteering to help crack the case.

The work is a welcome distraction from his other concerns. He doesn't have to think about Quark when he's busy analyzing forensic reports and cross-referencing records. He also doesn't have to think about Quark when he's scrutinizing the station's database records for every lead and witness, though he can't help automatically searching for connections back to Quark each time. It's instinct by now, like looking for a familiar face in a crowd. He doesn't want to risk missing a clue by _not_ thinking about the possibility of evidentiary links to Quark, and Quark tends to know people who know people who might have further leads worth investigating.

However, thinking about how many people Quark knows or might know reminds Odo of sitting at the empty counter again - distracting, irrelevant, an unwanted feeling. But he can't _not_ think about Quark, just like how, every once in a while, he can't stop looking up through his transparent office doors to see if Quark might be dropping by, to see him under the pretext of some convenient excuse - _Odo, there's a customer who threatened me for a dabo refund for my definitely not rigged table; Odo, I overheard some nefarious scheme when I was mixing a drink, so what'll you give me if I tell you who's meeting when and where; Odo, I haven't seen you all day..._

He's in the middle of checking whether the Bolian who provided a statement to his officers is the same Bolian he saw waiting on tables in the bar, when his combadge chirps with a message from Gul Dukat, and Odo stops to listen.

Additional security requested for a private social gathering - not typical, but understandable, given the day's earlier events. Most of his officers from the day shift would be off-duty at that time, so Dukat's requested Odo's presence specifically, and a couple other officers just in case - one stationed near the door at all times, but enough for rotation every hour or so, at least until the guests had left, and there wouldn't be a reason to worry about heightened security.

Odo grunts absently in response to the Gul's various stipulations and instructions as he wonders if the Rules of Acquisition regarding bosses apply between non-Ferengi and Ferengi, and if Quark received sex from _everyone_ in his employ, and if Quark liked the Bolian's ears, when Dukat mentions something offhand that startles Odo out of his reverie.

"I understand you typically visit the bar in the evenings, but -"

"Why does that matter?" Odo asks, somewhat defensively, then remembers who he's interrupted. "Apologies, Gul Dukat, but I don't see what bearing my past visits have upon tonight's assignment. My availability won't be affected."

"No need to apologize, Odo, I was merely noting..." Dukat's amused voice trails off over the comm. "Well, never mind. Now, about the prospective guests..."

They discuss a few more logistics, the transmission ends, and Odo's left staring at his console's records on Bolians he no longer cares about.

The gossip's reached even further than he thought. Dukat's amused tone, the reference to his visits - it was all too knowing, too matter of fact, like it was a foregone conclusion that Odo would prioritize Quark above his duties. An ill feeling filters through him.

Odo resolves then and there to _not_ visit the bar for the rest of the day, perhaps even the week. He'll reduce the frequency of his visits, make his interactions with Quark less predictable, less fodder for gossip.

Starting tonight. As much as Odo dislikes parties, tonight's occasion would give him a legitimate reason to avoid Quark.

He's almost looking forward to it.

 

* * *

 

Odo and his officers arrive at the Gul's quarters promptly, half an hour before the first guests are supposed to arrive.

They enter the main living area, an expansive room divided into multiple sections for entertaining guests. Couches and seats have been moved into the corners, making it easier for guests to move about the floor. (Also easier for any potential culprits to slip away, necessitating more attention to the room's entrances and exits.)

Odo scans the perimeter for anything of note. Though the room is darker than the station's usual dim lighting, the darkness is interspersed with vivid shades in slants and geometric patterns. He can see Dukat's aides walking around, ensuring everything is in order, making the final adjustments. Refreshments are already set up on a table near one side of the room, next to a small semicircle-shaped counter, behind which stands -

"Quark?" Odo says aloud.

His officers give each other a look that doesn't escape his attention, but Odo doesn't have time to give it another thought - he's already walking towards the counter, wondering why Quark is here, what Quark has been up to all day, and if Quark might still be thinking about the answer to his questions from before.

Quark looks up at the sound of his name, browridges knitting in recognition as Odo approaches.

"Odo?" Quark doesn't look pleased to see him, perhaps even apprehensive, and it's strangely disappointing. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Working," Odo replies curtly, responding in kind to Quark's unwelcoming tone. He folds his arms and reminds himself that he _is_ working, that he's a security officer, and Quark is a civilian in an unexpected place. "I could ask you the same question."

"And I could give you the same answer." Quark holds up a spritzer bottle and a glass, and Odo finally notices the array of other bottles and glasses behind the counter. "Satisfied?"

"No." Odo tries to think of a possible further explanation for Quark's presence, something reasonable and logical, but his mind bounces with other thoughts. Perhaps Quark had heard Odo would be here tonight, and wanted an excuse to worm his way in to see him, to even continue their conversation, since Odo didn't have time to visit him earlier. "Did you ask Dukat to work here tonight?"

"No, _he_ asked _me,_ " Quark replies snottily. He sets the bottle and the glass down. "Apparently I'm the only bartender he trusts."

Disappointed by the deflation of his incorrect assumptions, Odo just as snottily replies, "You're also the only bartender on the station."

Quark flourishes his hand in a dismissive wave. "A simple technicality."

Odo considers taking Quark at his word, but his mind instinctively searches for alternative explanations. The station's replicator biofilters automatically screen out poisons and other contaminants. If Dukat were concerned with someone poisoning his drink, or the drinks of his guests, he could avoid the problem altogether by having the replicators handle the drinks. Quark's services aren't necessary.

"It doesn't make sense," Odo says, allowing suspicion to enter his voice.

Quark frowns. "What doesn't make sense?"

"Why not simply replicate the drinks?" Odo nods over to wall with Dukat's personal replicator.

The frown turns into exasperation. " _Because_ , Odo - not like you can appreciate it - mixing drinks does take some skill. I know things the replicator doesn't, and besides, Cardassian replicators aren't great at replicating alcoholic drinks anyway."

"Oh." Odo pauses, feeling foolish again. He should have remembered. He's often overheard Rom complaining about repairing the replicators in the bar - the Cardassian technicians never considered the bar a high enough priority to repair right away, so Rom was usually responsible for any fixes on short notice.

Silence falls between them as Quark also pauses, as if waiting for a more combative reply, but none comes.

"So," Quark says eventually, "that's why I'm here. And you're here, too, so I guess this morning's attack really shook him, huh?" He lowers his voice. "Heard the Gul's face got lacerated enough to need dermal regeneration."

And just like that, their momentary hostility fades. Quark's lowered voice signals an interest in sharing information just between the two of them, and it's only appropriate for Odo to pursue the lead. Business as usual.

"The cuts weren't deep." Odo leans over the counter and lowers his voice as well, echoing Quark's confidential tone. "Have you heard anything else?"

"Uh?" Quark's cheeks flush slightly. Perhaps putting him on the spot made him nervous. "About what?"

"About the attack." Odo rests his elbows on the counter, wondering if he should lower his voice further, if that might sound more amenable, a clearer indication that he's willing to talk in confidence. "Hm?"

"I, uh." Quark licks his lips. "N-no?"

Odo scrutinizes him carefully. Quark's pupils are wide, the shadows around his eyes dark and smoked out, accentuating his gaze. The faint flush in his cheeks intensifies, darkening his skin. His breathing seems to have quickened.

It reminds Odo of last night's encounter, and the evasiveness he wants to curtail.

As Odo leans closer, Quark bites his bottom lip, the delicate points of his teeth gently pressing into the flesh. Odo wonders what it might be like to do the same, to press himself into Quark's softness, when -

"Sir?"

Odo straightens up and turns around.

His officers look at him politely, expectantly.

"You haven't told us where we should station ourselves yet," deputy Russol prompts, dutiful as ever.

Had anyone else brought this to his attention, Odo might have felt embarrassed, but he appreciates the dalin-in-training's diligence. Russol's one of the few Cardassians on the station who seems to respect Odo sincerely, and not merely for show.

Next to Russol, deputy Serrat nods in her typically stoic manner - economical, professional. There's no indication that she finds any of this amusing, though her eyes do flicker from Odo to Quark, then back to Odo.

The awareness that his deputies have just seen him prioritize chatting with Quark, rather than focus on his work, snaps Odo back to attention.

"Right," Odo says.

He assigns Russol to the door and Serrat to the other side of the room. As for himself, he'll patrol the main area. Switch every hour or as needed, and so forth.

After his deputies depart for their posts, Odo turns back to Quark. He's surprised to see Quark smiling at him.

"What?" Odo asks.

"What?" Quark replies, still smiling, and Odo can't tell if it's at his expense or not.

So he asks. "Did something amuse you?"

The smile still reaches Quark's eyes, even though Quark affects a more neutral expression. "You trained your deputies well. They're like little clones of you."

"Russol and Serrat?" Odo's bewildered. Neither of them are little. In fact, Serrat easily towers over him, the tallest woman he's ever met.

"Look - they even fold their arms like you do. With the hand on the elbow." And Quark demonstrates, mirroring Odo's typical gesture. The sight of it makes Odo feel strange inside, to know that Quark's identified the gesture as something belonging to _him_ , something personal to Odo specifically.

"Isn't that how everyone folds their arms?"

Quark shakes his head. "Nope. Just you and your admirers, I guess."

There's a hint of warmth undercutting Quark's sarcasm, sticking out like the end of a loose thread. Odo decides to grasp it.

He walks over and folds his arms - hand on the elbow, his trademark gesture - then tilts his head at Quark.

"Me and my admirers," he says. "Which now includes you, I suppose?"

Immediately, Quark lets his hands fall to his sides. His cheeks flush brilliantly, blood rushing to the surface of his skin.

"Ha ha, very funny, Odo."

Odo permits himself a chuckle, inordinately pleased with himself.

He's about to resume their conversation, but then a party guest walks over to request a drink, seemingly materializing out of nowhere, and another guest lines up behind that one, and Odo realizes he's lost track of time again.

He steps back to let the guests make their requests of Quark, then checks his internal clock. To his relief, he hadn't let a whole half hour pass by unawares - these arrivals were merely early.

But they're not the only ones. Odo turns to look back at the doorway, where more guests are arriving and Russol's checking everyone against the guestlist. Off to the side, Serrat stands watch as the guests trickle in and disperse around the room.

When Odo returns his attention to the counter, Quark's already engaged in conversation with a party guest, confirming some kind of complicated drink order, hands already moving to uncork a bottle and pour out its contents.

Disappointment flickers through Odo. But he remembers he's not here to socialize, and Quark isn't, either. Quark is here to work, and so is he.

Odo steps away from the counter.

Time to begin his rounds.

 

* * *

 

The first hour confirms that Odo still doesn't like parties.

There's too much of everything. Too many people, too much posturing. Excess is everywhere, reflected in the expensive decor and the overabundance of refreshments. The sight of so much food in one place disgusts Odo when he knows how badly the Cardassians have poisoned Bajor's agricultural supply, all the fields lying fallow and ruined. He still remembers Dr. Mora's hushed, urgent conversations with his parents, reassuring them that food was coming, he would send as much as he could, but they had to ration it carefully, lest starvation be held over their heads as yet another manipulation tactic.

It's a disgust that Odo's learned to live with as a background noise of sorts, something he can't allow himself to focus on lest it consume him, lest it cloud his long-term strategy of aiding the Resistance. He's never hidden his broader disgust at the Cardassian occupation of Bajor, but he's learned to avoid discussing it in certain company.

He's surrounded by that company now. The guests are all members of the Cardassian military or government, of varying levels of importance. The ones Dukat makes a point of socializing with are clearly the favored or more significant, but none of them impress Odo, and he's certain he doesn't impress any of them, either. Intimidate, perhaps - he still clearly puts some at unease, they minutely lean away or move aside when they notice him making his rounds.

Not that Odo's learned anything from his patrol. There's too much inane chatter. The guests routinely switch topics when they notice his presence, or don't say anything worth hearing in the first place. He keeps his other open investigations in mind, just in case he picks up on anything worth investigating at a later time, but nothing helpful emerges. It's frustrating.

Also frustrating: Quark's laden with numerous drink requests after an officer praised his kanar-tulaberry twist. Every time Odo gets near the counter, someone else is requesting something from Quark. There's no lull at all, no space for Odo to resume their conversation, no chance to break up the monotonous boredom he feels, being on the alert for a danger that hasn't happened and might not happen.

Though sometimes, when Odo looks back at the counter, he can see Quark looking around the room, eyes searching.

For him? Or for someone else?

 

* * *

 

Upon the second hour, Odo takes over the station by the door, ready to keep out any uninvited guests. Russol moves to one side of the room, Serrat keeps an eye on the other.

Now that he's stationed at the door, remaining in place, Odo has a clear view of Quark at the counter. Though he doesn't see Quark glance back over at him, Odo's certain that Quark must have noticed him relocate - he doesn't see Quark looking around the room anymore, wondering where he's gone. The observation fills Odo with a certain satisfaction.

There isn't much else for Odo to do at the door, besides look at Quark. Nearly everyone on the guestlist has already arrived, and no one's tried to leave yet. No exclamations of alarm, no rush to the door. He keeps an eye on the party in general, but mostly focuses on Quark, waiting for the steady line of guests to diminish, wondering if Quark's eager to talk with him again, too.

Only a few latecomers interrupt Odo's surveillance. Glinn Boheeka, surprisingly, is one of them. He sheepishly greets Odo, then explains, unprompted, that he was entertaining someone and had lost track of time.

Odo grunts in acknowledgement. He's not surprised - Boheeka's paramours are many.

"So how's your evening going?" Boheeka asks, genuinely interested, and while Odo's mildly irritated that Boheeka insists on talking with him, he does appreciate the glinn's courtesy. "Any fights you've had to break up? Maybe a scandal born from one too many kanars?"

"No, nothing scandalous," Odo replies. "Though I expect at least one fight to occur before the party's over. With this many guests, the probability of someone starting one is almost inevitable."

Boheeka laughs at that. "I'll have to make sure that someone's not me."

They both chuckle at the thought. Boheeka's usually the one talking others down, defusing tensions with a natural pleasantness that Odo can't imagine ever imitating.

"Ooh, there's Quark," Boheeka comments. "I hope he's saved some of the 2327 for me."

Odo doesn't drink, but he's heard Quark mention it enough to know the 2327 vintage is a particularly desirable and valuable kanar. The thought of Quark setting some aside for Boheeka fills him with a decidedly unpleasant feeling. An exchange for a favor? Sexual favors? A bribe? Quark plying Boheeka with an expensive vintage to buy his silence, ensure he keeps quiet about their clandestine affair?

Before Odo can ask why Quark would do such a thing, Boheeka's already left.

He watches Boheeka weave his way through the crowds and walk up to the counter, because of course there's no longer a line. Quark grins at the sight of him, because of course Quark would be pleased to see Boheeka, then ducks behind the counter to fetch something, re-emerging with an expensive-looking bottle. Quark pours the contents into a glass and hands it to Boheeka with a warm smile and some comment Odo can't decipher - he's too far away to see the words Quark's lips are forming.

But he's not too far away to see Quark's fingers brush against Boheeka's as the latter takes the glass from him, and he's not too far away to see Boheeka's steady eye contact with Quark, and he knows Boheeka flirts with everyone, and he knows Quark flirts with everyone as well, but somehow the sight of both of them flirting with each other is a rude awakening, and Odo wishes he hadn't seen it.

 

* * *

 

The second hour seems much longer than the first. Odo waits impatiently for the minutes to pass.

Boheeka's left to mingle with the other guests at the party, and Quark watches him go. Odo can see Quark looking up from the counter every so often, eyes searching the room until they rest upon Boheeka again.

Another incorrect assumption, Odo realizes - his previous certainty that Quark was looking for him no longer seems so certain, and it leaves him in a foul mood for the rest of the hour.

He looks out at the rest of the party and almost wishes for a fight, just so he has an excuse to leave the door.

As soon as the thought enters his mind, Odo regrets it. He shouldn't be thinking such things. He's an officer of the law, meant to maintain order, not to disrupt it.

Unlike Quark.

He regrets ever entertaining the thought of himself and Quark together. It's absurd. It's impossible. It's clearly inappropriate, and it's interfering with his work.

He should forget the incident ever happened. He's a security officer and Quark's a known criminal who occasionally serves a function as an informant. Constable and criminal. That's all they'll ever be.

 

* * *

 

At the third hour, Odo switches stations with Russol, who switches stations with Serrat, and neither comment on how Odo's near the side of the room with the refreshments table again.

Odo doesn't go to Quark right away. He walks around, listening for anything useful, any clue or hint towards a more substantial thread, but comes up empty.

Some of the guests have left the party already. Some are clustered in corners, gossiping away, glasses of liquor dangling from their fingertips. Some are sleeping off the night's festivities on the couches, feet dangling off the edge, heads propped up on squashy cushions. Here and there, some are nestled quite close to each other, even indulging in the occasional drunken kiss, or series of kisses, which would never be spoken of again. Open secrets kept hidden from the wives and husbands back home.

Eventually, he makes his way back to the counter, determined to confirm what he suspects he already knows, because even though he's almost entirely certain there's nothing left to investigate about himself and Quark, he doesn't want any loose ends.

Quark's drying a glass, a task so apparently all-consuming that he doesn't even glance up when he asks, "What do you want, Odo?"

 _Not even a look?_ Odo leans his elbows on the counter. "Do I have to 'want' anything?"

"That's usually why people come to see me." Quark sets down the glass, then picks up another one, still not looking up at him. "Unless you've finally decided to give shapeshifting a stomach a try, I guess?"

"No," Odo replies, annoyed - didn't Quark remember he's already tried that joke last week? Or was Quark so preoccupied with his precious glass-polishing that he couldn't even bother to think of new things to say to him?

"Then why are you here?"

"Do I have to want a drink to speak to you?"

Quark shrugs. "It's a good excuse. So what do you want?"

"To speak to you."

"Fine." Quark slams the glass down and looks up at him with a glare. "Then speak to me already."

"Fine," Odo replies with a glare of his own. "You've been evasive."

"And you've been acting weird all evening."

"How? I've simply been doing my job."

"And so have I, but you keep _walking over_ and scaring away my customers!"

"What customers? Gul Dukat's already paid you a flat fee, nobody's bought a single drink all evening."

"Okay, they're not customers right _now_ , but they're past and future customers, and they don't need to have the chief of security breathing down their necks when they're just trying to have a good time!"

Odo scrutinizes Quark, realizes something. "You've been drinking."

"I'm at a _party_ ," Quark exclaims. "Of course I've been drinking."

"But you don't usually drink on the job."

"I'm _at_ a _party_ ," Quark repeats, as if that explains everything, even though it doesn't.

Behind them, Odo can sense Dukat approaching, hear the beginning of the word "Constable" cut-off by a pause.

He immediately turns around. "Gul Dukat."

"Constable." Dukat has a perplexed look on his face. "Is... everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Gul Dukat. There haven't been any security incidents thus far."

"Right," Dukat replies slowly. "But I am concerned that one might be in the making." He nods towards the counter, at Quark, and Odo's about to turn around to interrogate Quark further, when Dukat adds, "I thought you two would be happier to see each other. Or are you?" Then, as if to himself, he mutters, "No, clearly not."

"I can assure you, Gul Dukat, that everything is under control."

Behind him, Quark laughs, and he's clearly drunk. "Yeah, of course it is. The great Constable Odo's got _everything_ under control."

He whirls around to glower at Quark. "Your sarcasm isn't helping, Quark."

"I wasn't _trying_ to help, _Constable_."

"Oh," Dukat says faintly in the background. "Gentlemen, there's no need -"

But Odo's not paying attention, because Quark is directly mocking him in front of the Gul, undermining his authority as Chief of Security on the station, and he can't permit this to continue.

He extends his height, stretching himself up until he's looking down at Quark from a more intimidating angle, approximately one head taller than usual, and Quark's defiant expression falters for a moment, eyes widening.

Odo lowers his voice to a deep, deliberately harsh rasp, and asks, "Do I need to escort you to a holding cell?"

Quark winces. His shoulders hunch as he visibly cowers away from Odo, making him seem even smaller than usual. "No."

"Good." And Odo resumes his usual height, and his usual voice. "Then we don't have a problem."

"Yep," Quark agrees in a quiet voice. "No problems here."

Odo grunts, then turns back around to the Gul, who looks even more perplexed than earlier.

Dukat opens his mouth, about to comment, but then there's a tap on his shoulder as one of his guests stops to bid him a good night. He immediately turns to walk the guest to the door, his shoulders relaxed, like he's just let go of a held breath.

As he watches Dukat go, Odo becomes aware of the rest of the party again. The background chatter suddenly regains its former volume, and if any of the guests had been staring at him and Quark, they no longer were. Everywhere he looks, the guests look elsewhere.

He turns back to Quark, who's staring at him with apprehension.

"Are you done with me?" Quark asks, sounding very small.

Even though Odo _wanted_ to intimidate Quark earlier, guilt washes over him.

He can't bring himself to say anything in return, so he nods and walks away.

 

* * *

 

Not long after, Boheeka rushes up to him, looking concerned.

"Odo, why did you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"The whole..." Boheeka gestures upwards, indicating height. "That. You didn't have to scare Quark in front of everyone like that."

"He was disrespecting me in front of the Gul."

"Oh," Boheeka says. "Well, that's not ideal, but you still didn't have to go that far."

Though he'd rather respond with something more curt and sharp, Odo merely grunts in reply. He didn't expect Boheeka to understand. Not Boheeka, the nicest Cardassian that Odo has ever met, who earned respect as effortlessly as most people breathe.

"I mean, have you heard the things Quark's said about you?"

He can only imagine.

"I've heard plenty," Odo grumbles.

"No, I mean, the _things_ ," Boheeka says urgently, waving his hand in the air to make a point, like he's beckoning words to come hither, like the gesture would explain everything. "It's not what you think. He _likes_ you."

Odo frowns. It's been a few kanars since Boheeka's joined the party. "Are you still talking about Quark?"

"Yes!" Boheeka's face lights up with a smile. "He defends you all the time, haven't you heard?"

Now he knows Boheeka's drunk. " _Defends_ me?"

"Constantly!"

Odo considers this information. Boheeka's not nearly clever enough to attempt to lie to him, while drunk, and still seem this genuine. It is possible the glinn is telling the truth.

So he decides to investigate further.

"All right," Odo says. "Tell me more about these things he's said."

 

* * *

 

It's a lot.

 

* * *

 

Odo keeps looking back at the counter, where he can see Quark looking back at the two of them, dark-rimmed eyes narrowed in concentration, perhaps attempting to deduce what they could be talking about, perhaps struggling to hear.

He sees Quark take a sip from a glass of bright blue liquid.

Boheeka follows his gaze. "Oh, dear."

"He doesn't usually drink on the job."

"He doesn't, but you make him nervous." Boheeka glances back at him with concern. "He's been taking sips all night. You've really done a number on him, Odo."

"I didn't mean to."

"But you have."

Odo digests this information.

"So what should I do now?"

 

* * *

 

The party winds down, and the guests depart, one by one.

Boheeka left shortly after their talk together, having caught the eye of another party guest, making a moderate spectacle of themselves in the middle of the room, before regaining enough presence of mind to leave. And while Odo hadn't actually been expecting Quark to leave with him, he's still relieved to know that's no longer a possibility.

(He doesn't look back at the counter to confirm. He'd rather not know if Quark watched Boheeka leave with a longing look.)

Later, Odo's earlier prediction comes true - a fight does occur between two of the guests, one which Russol and Serrat easily handle, both of them almost tripping over each other to break the fight up first. In the end, they each pull apart the respective brawlers and escort them to the drunk tank, one at a time. (Apparently the two brawlers had gotten into some petty argument over who had the more distinguished military record, which Odo mentally translates to a competition over who was more recognized for oppressing the Bajorans.)

Besides that, there aren't any other security incidents. (A fact which Dukat, sotto voce, notes with relief when Odo reports to him at the end of the evening.)

After the guests have left - the ones that weren't sleeping on the Gul's couches or other spare furniture - Odo dismisses his deputies with a brief, matter-of-fact acknowledgement of their professionalism and efficiency. Russol and Serrat beam with modest pride before bidding him good night, chattering excitedly to each other in low voices when they think they're out of Odo's earshot. He permits himself a small smile at that.

One of Dukat's aides walks past him to start tidying up.

Odo turns to watch the aide go to the refreshments table, then realizes Quark's still there.

Quark's cleaning up behind the counter, putting stoppers back in bottles and putting glasses away. There are a lot of bottles and glasses. Quark looks very tired. He almost drops a glass but catches it just in time, setting it down behind the counter with a light noise.

Resolved to make things right, Odo begins walking over.

He's not going to say he's sorry. He's not sure Quark would accept an apology at this point, anyway.

But he could still do _something_ , at least.

Quark looks up when he approaches, even before he's said anything. Odo supposes his footsteps must be obvious with so few other people in the room.

"Hey, Odo." Quark sounds sleepy, perhaps even a little inebriated. Too sleepy to be rude. "What can I do for you?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," Odo replies, and he steps around the counter.

Quark blinks up at him with a start. "What are you doing?"

He looks at the counter, and the numerous bottles still out in the open. He picks up the expensive-looking bottle from before and reads the label, which identifies it as the 2327 vintage, then screws in the corresponding stopper before setting it back down. "Thought I might be of assistance."

Quark frowns. "What?"

Odo picks up another bottle and its corresponding stopper, then closes it. "I want to help you."

Quark watches him repeat the motions with another bottle, then another, then asks, "How are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Picking the right stoppers."

"Observation." Odo helps put another bottle away, neatly sealed. "I paid attention to which stopper came from where. It's not difficult."

"Really?" Quark blinks. "Felt difficult tonight."

"Well," Odo replies, permitting himself a small smile. "You _are_ drunk."

Quark shrugs. "I guess."

Side by side, they put away bottles in silence for a while, glass clinking against metal with a soothing rhythm, until Dukat's aides arrive to finish things up, and Quark's dismissed as well.

They walk towards the door.

"I'll escort you out," Odo volunteers.

Quark looks up at him, apprehensive once more. "Not to the holding cells."

"No, Quark. Back to your quarters."

"Back to...?" Quark blinks, like he's not sure he's heard correctly.

"Your quarters."

"Oh." Quark nods. "Okay."

 

* * *

 

Silence falls between them as they walk down the corridor to the turbolift, then through the habitat ring. The corridors are quiet except for the sound of their footsteps, and for once, the silence feels serene.

They reach Quark's door, and Odo watches Quark enter the wrong code in the keypad, which beeps in a lecturing sort of way at him, but Quark gets it right in the end.

As the doors swish open, Quark laughs.

"What is it?" Odo asks, peering down at him curiously.

Quark grins up at him. "I thought you'd... never mind."

"Never mind what?" Odo leans closer, quietly inquisitive, mindful not to speak too loudly this late at night. "Tell me."

And Quark's cheeks flush faintly. "Don't use that tone on me, Odo."

"What tone?"

Quark mumbles a reply. Odo thinks he catches the word for 'honey' before Quark's voice rises in volume. "Well, it won't work on me _this_ time."

Intrigued, Odo asks, "Has it worked other times, then?"

Quark pauses, then scrutinizes him, eyes sharp.

"You're taking advantage of a poor drunken bartender," Quark informs him with a smile.

Odo smiles back. "I don't think so."

Quark regards him in silence for a moment. But he's still smiling, and the smile reaches his half-lidded eyes.

"No," Quark agrees, "I don't think so, either."

They look at each other in silent regard for another moment more.

And Odo is about to say good night, when Quark leans up to look him straight in the eyes.

"Do you want to come in?"


	4. Chapter 4

He stares at Quark in surprise.

This wasn't part of the plan.

The plan, inasmuch as any semblance of a plan had existed, was to help Quark clean up at the party, see him safely back to his quarters, say goodnight and go -

Next to them, the doors begin to close.

The movement interrupts his thoughts. Irritated, Odo shoots out a hand and grabs one of the door panels, halting it in its tracks. There's a barely perceptible hiss of hydraulics as the panel resists his grip, then a reprimanding beep.

Quark grins. "Hey. Odo."

"Yes?" Odo immediately leans closer.

"You can let go of the door now. It's trying to open back up."

"Oh." He looks back at his hand, and the panel he's still gripping.

It is, indeed, no longer attempting to close. Odo can feel the microtextures of the door's surface tug at his fingertips as the panel tries to pull away.

He loosens his fingers.

The panel obligingly slides out of his hand, receding back into the doorway in perfect sync with its counterpart.

Feeling somewhat foolish, Odo lets his hand drop. He coughs quietly, embarrassed.

"Guess that settles it." Quark glances at the open doorway, then back at him.

They're looking into each other's eyes, but Quark looks like he's looking at something else. Almost like he can't quite believe what he's seeing, except he's looking right at Odo, and Odo hasn't assumed an unrecognizable form of any sort. It's highly unlikely that Quark finds his presence unbelievable. He must be thinking of something else.

Odo wonders what he's thinking about.

Then Quark's shoulders rise and fall with a deep, shaky breath, and he whispers quietly to himself, "Okay."

Before Odo can ask for any clarification, Quark takes him by the hand and pulls him inside.

 

* * *

 

Odo barely registers the sound of the doors closing behind them.

He follows Quark in a trance, marveling at how tightly Quark grasps his hand. It's an unexpected pleasure, someone wanting to touch him. _Quark_ wanting to touch him.

The smooth curves of Quark's manicure dig into his palm just so, the individual whorls of Quark's fingerprints press pathways against his own featureless skin. He had been too preoccupied to notice such details before, when Quark had so vehemently protested his touch back at the bar.

Experimentally, Odo relaxes the surface of his hand just enough to dip into the microscopic ridges and valleys lining Quark's fingers. He traces the lines of Quark's skin with the finest liquid touch he can muster, as light as the morning dew on Bajor. Maybe even lighter.

Quark shivers. His face darkens into an interesting color in several places - the edges of his cheeks, the tips of his ears.

Did he notice?

It wouldn't have felt like anything more than the faintest sheen of sweat.

Nevertheless, Odo resolidifies the surface of his hand, smoothes it over.

Quark's fingers tighten around his, rubbing him slightly, fingertips moving back and forth across his skin. The motion is unfamiliar.

"What is it?" Odo asks, tensing with uncertainty.

Quark looks back over his shoulder. He smiles.

"Just checking you're still there," Quark replies.

The explanation mystifies Odo. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

Quark shrugs. He gives Odo's hand a squeeze, then looks away again, seemingly reassured.

 

* * *

 

They stop in front of a nondescript grey couch near the window.

Standard-issue, Odo notes. Just enough room for two people to sit next to each other comfortably.

(Or to do other things besides sitting, at varying levels of comfort. Like the guests at the party, draping themselves all over each other, contorting themselves every few minutes to fondle each other. Was that what Quark wanted?)

Without any warning, Quark lets go of his hand.

Odo grunts, startled. The sudden absence of Quark's touch is... disorienting. His hand feels empty.

"What's wrong?" Quark asks, turning his head as he shrugs out of his jacket.

"You're taking off your jacket?" Odo's never seen Quark remove his jacket so casually. Usually Quark only took off his jacket when something unfortunate had befallen it, and no such misfortune had occurred at the party. And now Quark was holding his jacket instead of his hand, and Odo can't stop staring at Quark's hands.

Quark raises a browridge, but doesn't comment right away. He folds the jacket in half lengthwise, then drapes it neatly over the back of the couch. "I asked first. What's wrong?"

Odo folds his arms. It helps his hand feel less empty. "Nothing's wrong."

"Uh-huh." Quark sounds unconvinced. "I know all your weird noises, Odo. That one wasn't a good one."

Disconcerting. Odo hadn't realized his various noises were so revealing.

( _He pays more attention to you than anyone else on the station_ , Boheeka had told him.)

Grumbling, Odo repeats his query. "Why did you remove your jacket?"

Quark smiles. He walks back over to Odo, leaning his head back slightly to look him in the eyes. "It's getting a little warm in here, don't you think?"

Odo frowns. "I've detected no change in temperature."

Quark's eyes glitter with amusement. "Of course you haven't."

He reaches out to give Odo's arm a reassuring rub. The edge of his palm brushes against Odo's curled fingers, then Quark's fingertips trail downwards, stopping to settle around Odo's hand.

Before Odo has finished getting used to the sensation of being touched again, Quark's intertwined their fingers once more.

He makes a surprised sound. Quark grins.

"Nothing's wrong, right?"

"What?" Odo asks, too distracted by having his hand held again to fully register what Quark was asking.

"Never mind." Quark tugs on his hand and glances backwards towards the couch. "C'mon."

Odo retains just enough presence of mind to slowly unfold his arms, allowing Quark to pull him along. Without Odo's conscious permission, Quark would have simply tugged on him in vain, unable to budge him in the slightest.

He sits down on the couch next to Quark. The grey cushions sink slightly underneath his weight.

Quark leans heavily onto his side against the couch, resting his head on the back of it as if he might consider falling asleep there. He looks relaxed. Comfortable. At ease.

(Odo can't recall anyone else ever looking that way with him.)

The compulsion to sit in a similar fashion seizes Odo. His cheek rubs against the back of the couch as he turns to face Quark directly, leaning heavily on his side against the couch. The cushions shift to accommodate him, yielding just enough to adjust to his weight. Odo's not used to feeling so supported.

Their clasped hands rest between them.

Quark is oddly silent.

Odo looks down at their clasped hands, wondering if he's missed a step somehow - yet another unspoken humanoid procedure he's failed to follow.

Was that why Quark wasn't saying anything? Was Quark waiting for him to act?

How did the people at the party act? Odo scans his memories of the covert couples, the glimpses he had caught while surveilling the room. But his attention had been divided - he barely recalls any specifics besides the identities of the officers preoccupied with one another, the secretive touches and caresses that he dispassionately observed before diverting his attention back to Quark's side of the room...

The pad of Quark's thumb strokes his hand in a distracting manner.

Odo focuses on the gentle pressure of Quark's thumb as it travels across his knuckles, the texture of Quark's fingerprints dragging along his skin. His hand is no more sensitive than any other part of his humanoid form, and being touched there is the same as being touched elsewhere on his person. Quark could be holding his foot, or his elbow, or the tip of his nose, and it wouldn't make a difference in terms of physical sensation or sensitivity.

But that didn't mean Odo doesn't feel anything when Quark touches him.

And right now, Quark's touch feels rather... pleasant.

Soothing, even.

He wouldn't mind staying like this for a while - sitting next to Quark on the couch, having him in his sights, finally secure in the knowledge that Quark couldn't possibly be doing anything criminal at this very moment. Not here, not while he's holding his hand.

Quark gazes back at him, still oddly quiet, though Odo can just about make out the sound of Quark's breathing. It's faster than usual, louder on the inhale than the exhale, an irregular rhythm. On the inhale, Quark's nose ridges shift ever so slightly upwards.

The urge to study Quark's face overtakes him. Odo's at the perfect vantage point to notice every detail he's been too rushed to notice before. It's the work of a moment to memorize every line, commit every curve to memory.

Like a reflex, Odo contemplates the possibility of reproducing those details himself.

A brief flicker of amusement passes through him at the thought of surprising Quark with the sight of his own face. Why, Quark would be so shocked, he'd likely scream -

Or shrink back in fear, voice crumpling in on itself like it did at the party.

The amusement fades.

He doesn't want to frighten Quark. Not that much. Not again.

Putting the bottles away wasn't nearly enough of an apology. It wasn't an apology at all.

"Quark."

Next to him, Quark rolls over onto his side, edging closer to him on the couch. "Yeah?"

"There's something I should tell you."

A slow smile. Quark gives his hand a squeeze. "Uh-huh?"

"I'm sorry."

Quark blinks. He draws nearer, lifting up his head and resting it closer to Odo's. "For what?"

"For earlier. I shouldn't have done that." Odo's no longer sure if he's only referring to the party. But it's the truth.

"Oh." Quark shrugs with one shoulder, cheek pressed against the couch. "It's okay."

"No, it's not." Odo steels himself. It suddenly becomes very important for him to come clean, but he doesn't know where to start. He grips Quark's hand, wishing he could communicate everything he wanted to say through touch alone. "I shouldn't have -"

And then Quark cuts him off with a kiss.

Odo grunts in surprise, but not in displeasure. It's the gentlest touch Odo's ever felt, Quark's lips pressed against his own.

He must have sounded obvious yet again, because Quark chuckles softly against his mouth, small vibrations tickling at Odo's skin.

Another new sensation, another unexpected touch. Odo looks at Quark's face, seeking eye contact, some kind of confirmation that this wasn't merely another manifestation of Quark's often incomprehensible sense of humor - but Quark's eyes are shut. Not tightly, not scrunched up or screwed, just closed. Almost relaxed.

It feels strange to look at Quark's closed eyes, so Odo closes his eyes as well, wondering if that was integral to the experience - purposely reducing other sensory capabilities to focus on the one.

So this was kissing.

Odo wonders how long it ought to last.

Before he can think any further, Quark pulls away with an unintelligible noise.

What did that noise mean? Why didn't he know Quark's noises as well as Quark knew his? From now on, he would commit those to memory as well. But first, he needs to know what they mean...

Odo opens his eyes.

Quark's smiling.

He looks satisfied, but not smug.

Pleased, even.

Was that a pleased noise, then?

"Why did you do that?" Odo asks.

Quark shrugs again. He's sprawled along the back of the couch, one leg dangling off the cushions, the other drawn up and folded, aimed in Odo's direction. "Just felt like it. Did you mind?"

"Mind? No."

The noise occurs again - a hum of sorts. Quark still looks pleased.

_So it's a pleased noise._

"You're smiling," Quark tells him.

"I am?" Odo wasn't even aware he smiled.

"It's gone now," Quark teases. "Guess you don't like getting caught."

Odo grumbles, unsettled. Quark couldn't possibly know -

"I was joking, Odo." Quark reaches up to pat his cheek. "Moody old shapeshifter."

Then Quark rests his palm on Odo's cheek, keeps it there.

"Quark?"

That thoughtful look from earlier returns to Quark's face, as does the sensation of Quark looking at him and at something else at the exact same time.

Odo wishes he knew what that look meant.

"Would you mind," Quark begins, leaning up towards him, "if I -"

Now it's Odo's turn to cut him off with a kiss.

He hears Quark gasp into his mouth, a muffled sound that Odo can nevertheless decipher as one of surprise.

And not displeasure.

Odo bears down on the kiss, trying to imitate the gentleness he had felt earlier, the delicacy of touch. Quark's lips are soft. He presses himself into that softness, just enough to test the tension between Quark's mouth and his, careful not to use too much force. To be extra careful, Odo cradles the back of Quark's head to hold him still.

Then Quark whines.

It's a high-pitched sort of noise - one of distress, perhaps even hurt -

Odo quickly breaks off the kiss.

"I'm sorry," he says gruffly, searching for signs of pain in Quark's face.

But when Quark opens his eyes again, he just looks bewildered.

"Sorry for what?" Quark asks. His hand is still on Odo's cheek, which he idly rubs with his thumb.

Odo frowns. Perhaps he misinterpreted the noise. "I... thought I harmed you."

"No?" Quark sounds even more confused than he looks. "Why would you think that?"

"You made a noise."

Quark frowns. "What noise?"

Although Odo was an adept mimic, he was not about to reproduce that particular sound. "While I was kissing you."

"Oh." Quark's face darkens immediately in a fierce blush. "I, uh. That wasn't, um. A noise of pain."

"Oh."

Quark bites his lip, then lets go of it in a grin. "Try kissing me again."

"Again?"

Quark nods. "Yes. If you don't mind, that is."

He's already tilting his face up towards Odo, eyelids lowering.

"No," Odo replies, already leaning down to oblige. "I don't think I would."

Just before their lips meet again, a thought occurs to him -

_It's getting late -_

But then they're kissing again, and Quark's making an interesting noise in his mouth, similar to the whine from earlier, but not quite identical, and suddenly it becomes very important to continue investigating the differences and specifics of those sounds.

There's at least an hour before his cycle needs to begin.

Surely there would be no harm in staying just a few more minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! 
> 
> Originally this was going to be the penultimate chapter, but then I wrote so much that I had to bisect and then possibly trisect the way things play out from here. There's still quite a few things up ahead to cover, and as Odo will find out in the next part, time is always a concern...


End file.
